“The thing about regret is, it’s better to regret something you have done than something you haven’t done.”

- Butthole Surfers, “Human Cannonball”

Maybe they stole that quote from somewhere else. Then again, surely no one knows more about questionable decisions than Gibby Haynes. 

You can sit around all god damn day wishing in one hand and pooping in the other, romanticizing an imaginary time machine wherein you knew what you know now when you were younger, and if you enjoy making yourself miserable, then that’s one of the best techniques I can recommend. 

The fact of the matter is – and this is probably not entirely fact or by any means an admission to a belief in fate – you were probably never going to do anything other than what you’ve done. If you had it to do over, without the knowledge of the previous outcome, you’d likely do exactly what you wanted to do in that situation every time. I don’t believe at all that your life story is spelled out in the stars, but given how many people knowingly repeat the same bad decisions without the benefit of time travel, it’s somehow comforting to know there’s no point in wasting wishes on poorly made choices. 

I’ve been arrested four times with one felony attached. I have five maxed out credit cards. I have some pretty shitty tattoos. I’ve broken hearts that didn’t deserve to be broken. I’ve burned a few bridges that were better left intact. 

However, the day will come when I’m lying on a sidewalk, a knife jutting out of my rib cage, watching someone who probably has a higher credit score than i do make their way down the street with my phone and wallet in hand and if any regrets come to mind, they won’t be anything I just mentioned. I’ll be wishing I’d known I was going to die that day so I hadn’t wasted all that money paying off credit cards.

i was troubled when i started this blog. i’m still troubled, but my troubles don’t trouble me so much anymore or at least right now.

time management. stress management. money management. maintaining good health. keeping a clean living space – being an adult feels like the most difficult job there is and I envy the hell out of anyone who not only does it well, but manages the difficulty of a career on top of it.

I was at my wit’s end when I wrote that first post. There’s some pretty personal shit I should have probably kept to myself. Part of holding it together adult-style is at least maintaining the illusion of stability. 

oh well. 

New Orleans is officially a blur. Which I think is all New Orleans was ever meant to be. Hungover plane rides commence in one hour.

i feel like i’m on the set of a zombie movie. 

and knowing literally no one in this city, managed to have marijuana delivered to my door. 

this is not real life. 

tonight, I venture into the abyss. 

Festival Seth’s hand thrusts from beyond the grave.

i’ve slept 3 hours in the past 30. Spent 5 of those riding in cars and planes. 

I can’t tell if this intense a level of delirium is totally sweet or bordering on misery.  

I’m thinking a beer will help me figure it out. 

Hello, New Orleans. Good to see you again.

Bastards were 20 min early. If I left anything behind, I’ll kill them.

Bama did me some good.
Roots.
Family.
Reality.
Half way back to nashville.
Nap to take.
Plane to catch.

I consider Lester Bangs and Jesus Christ both personal heros. They both died at exactly my age. Another hero Hunter Thompson had an alter ego named Raoul Duke he at some point found himself merging with to the point where he wasn’t sure where Thompson started, where Duke ended and who everyone else was expecting to meet. 

My friends have dubbed my alter ego “Festival Seth”. Festival Seth emerges when both responsibilities and liabilities simmer to a minimum, consequences are slim and illicit chemicals are in no short supply (Bonnaroo, SXSW, etc). A drug-addled zombie music journalist who functions remarkably well to everyone’s amazement and seemingly cheats death with every appearance. 

What few understand is that Festival Seth is like the Voltron of my inner demons who lock together like five mighty lions of inequity and spend their downtime anticipating the next opportunity to yield its mighty sword of hedonism. There was a time when Seth “Gravy” Graves and “Festival Seth” were virtually one in the same and entire weeks would be spend pushing my body to its remarkable limits. 

Several arrests and life lessons later, I’ve learned my demons are kept at bay. But like all addicts – and I am an addict. My vice is no particular chemical, but hedonism and reckless abandon by any means necessary – i’ve got other triggers. Stress and Boredom can send me spiraling free of my loathsome responsibility putting my career, safety, and relationships in danger. This blog is not only an open book of my struggle, but a really terrible idea. 

But what’s the fun of being both a trainwreck and an artist if you can’t combine the two? Be it a spiritual journey or a path to self destruction, I’m documenting my life and thoughts into a blog I’m sure you can and will use against me at any given time.